


Operation S.I.N.

by BrandonJT



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, and other references, loose adaptation, there's a deadpool reference if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10041176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandonJT/pseuds/BrandonJT
Summary: After the death of an SSR chief, Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa return to New York City to investigate the murder. While Daniel deals with organization politics, Peggy finds an ally in old friend Howard Stark, who has his own stakes in the case. As they unravel the conspiracy, will our heroes survive? Or succumb to sin?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Peggy takes care of a home invasion by mysterious assailants. Daniel and Peggy return to New York City and rendezvous with old friends while a new case comes off the heels of the death of a fellow agent.

**PREVIOUSLY ON _AGENT CARTER_ :**

Peggy Carter passionately kisses Daniel Sousa in his office. Angie Martinelli and Peggy are shown walking into Howard Stark's mansion, Edwin Jarvis showing the excited new occupant in. We then cut to Jack Thompson presenting Peggy with a completely redacted file that bears her name, and lastly Thompson being executed by a silenced pistol. The assassin steals the file off the chief's table before walking off, the scene cutting to black.

* * *

She's used to waking up to terror.

 

That's the baggage that comes with war, she tells herself. On one hand, the war took many people and things away from Agent Peggy Carter, but it had it's benefits too. Getting into the SSR, meeting Steve, and being relatively unfazed by hearing a loud clatter in the night. The latter was something that was coming especially in handy tonight.

 

She rolls over in the darkness, and immediately grabs her Walther PPK from beneath her soft, light pillow. It didn't take her long after the second world war to realize that she could only get some shut-eye if she wasn't completely comfortable. Peggy thought about Howard and his luxurious, pampered lifestyle and nearly laughed to herself, before realizing that either Mr. Jarvis was on a midnight snack run or an unlucky group of ne'er-do-wells had selected one of Stark's estates to ransack.

 

"I'm trying to sleep here, you wankers..." Peggy sleepily muttered under her breath, rolling out of bed. With her golden brown hair in a bun and a dark blue satin robe around her body, she slowly stepped out of bed, her sidearm at the ready. Walking along the wooden floor, she snuck around to the doorframe, not even making a shadow of a sound. It was then that the invader opened fire on the walls with a machine gun.

 

"Dad-blamed, Bob, what was that?!" one soldier asked the other. Bob turned to his friend and nervously shrugged, Peggy listening in on their whispered conversation.

 

"I thought I heard a noise!" Bob snapped at his ally, trembling slightly. Peggy resisted the urge to scoff, noting the inflection of terror in his voice.

 

"Is the chief here?" the soldier questioned, Peggy breathing as quietly as she could, laid up against the wall in anticipation. Bob poked his armored head into the room and saw no one, not even in the fluffy, dream-like bed.  With a shrug, he slunked back, a smirk coming onto her face. Novice mistake.

 

"Nope, no one, Arnie." Bob replied, clearly pleased with himself. His partner, this Arnold, raised an eyebrow under his helmet and motioned toward the soldier.

 

"Just toss one of 'em, our bosses didn't say we needed to be careful." Arnold suggested with a smirk on his face. Now this intrigued Peggy, who peeked to see the mysterious agent with a grenade in hand. This grenade seemed familiar to her, of that she was sure, and it was no normal weapon. It hummed a light whirr, and even more interesting, glowing blue wires were running through it. She had seen this somewhere...

 

"Wait a minute...that looks like a..." Peggy began as the soldier hurled the mysterious grenade into her bedroom. She jumped onto the floor and slid towards the bomb, taking it in hand.

 

"Oh, come on!" the agent grunted as she tossed the grenade back at the surprised soldiers, knocking them into each other and down the stairs. Right as they groaned in pain, a sharp sound was made, and the grenade exploded with a piercing sound. She plugged her ears and shut her eyes, taking a deep breath.

 

"Who sent you...?" Peggy murmured as she stood up, walking over to the stairs. A massive hole was in the ground, and the Jarvises were looking at the scene, distressed. She put a hand over her face and sighed, shaking her head.

* * *

"Today, President Truman announced that the newly signed National Security Act will establish the country's first peacetime intelligent organization, the Central Intelligence Agency."

 

Peggy grunted in annoyance, standing outside the house. A punching bag was hung up and she did her best to ignore the radio and it's goings-on and concentrate on slamming her fists into the dull red and well worn sack full of sand. Ana was hard at work sewing something in her chair, while Mr. Jarvis was nervously looking at the mansion being rebuilt.

 

"At least it's not that bloody Captain America program..." she said under her breath. Ana looked up at her friend and then to her horrified husband.

 

"In other news, the St. Louis Browns fielded two negroes at the same time, a record first for the major league." the radio rung out.

 

"Oh, how pleasant!" Ana remarked, a pleased smile on her face. Peggy smiled back at her and nodded, as Jarvis talked to himself.

 

"Mr. Jarvis, do speak up." Peggy suggested, throwing a punch while Ana made a noise of agreement as she knitted two threads together.

 

"I just find it a tad bit unsettling how we were attacked in the middle of the night...they even dismantled Mr. Stark's security system." Jarvis commented, putting a hand up to his mouth. In front of him, a crew of Stark Industries employees were putting the floor pieces back in place.

 

"Dear, we do have Ms. Carter to protect us. And I know you are very capable as well." Ana told him, prompting Jarvis to smile to himself, satisfied. Peggy raised an eyebrow and turned her head.

 

"I intend to talk with Howard about that, if he ever shows up..." Peggy added, as they heard a car sputter into the estate's driveway. Jarvis cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, swiftly walking over into the house.

 

"I do believe that's Mr. Stark." Ana noted, and Peggy made a noise of agreement, narrowing her eyebrows. Howard did love to be fashionably late, whenever possible.

 

"You look as lovely as ever, Peg." a familiar, recognizably smug voice rang out. Peggy turned her head to see none other than Howard Stark, billionaire, brilliant mind, and alcoholic egotist. There was a little leftover lipstick on his smirk that somehow befitted his black suit and tie.

 

"You too, Jarvis, and the gorgeous missus." Howard continued, patting Jarvis on the back and flashing a charming grin to Ana, who politely smiled back. He wrapped his arm around Peggy who rolled her eyes.

 

"What kind of mischief were you up to, Howard?" Peggy asked, leaning against the punching bag. With a wry grin, he put his hand up against one of the house's pillars.

 

"The usual kind, Peggy, what else?" Howard answered, as Ana chuckled at their banter. Jarvis, biting his fingernails, gazed over at the repairs.

 

"I suspected nothing less." Peggy retorted, smiling softly. Howard poked his loyal butler's shoulder, causing him to jolt and turn around.

 

"Hey, Jarvis, my guys are the finest in the country, the house'll be tip-top in no time. Go get yourself a drink. Something for me too, you know what I like." Howard assured him, and Jarvis nodded quickly, walking over to fetch drinks and distract himself from the admittedly stressful situation.

 

"Thank you, Mr. Stark, not even I could convince him this time." Ana beamed, as she stood up. Howard shook her hand as he motioned towards the door behind them.

 

"That's our Jarvis. Go tell him to call my drink off, he deserves a day off." the occasionally generous genius offered. Ana shook his hand back and nodded.

 

"I'll do just that, Mr. Stark." she answered, walking off. Peggy look impressed and crossed her arms as Howard settled into a chair and let out a sigh of relief.

 

"God, these chairs are great. I had to get the material imported, y'know that?" Howard bragged, putting his feet up on the table. The secret agent scoffed at her close friend.

 

"We nearly died, Howard, your bragging can wait." Peggy told him off. Howard sighed and shrugged, his hands behind his head.

 

"Who tried to do me in this time? Was it those Fujikawa guys?" Howard inquired. The SSR agent opened her mouth to question him, but opted to ignore his query and shook her head.

 

"They weren't after you. They were after the so-called chief." Peggy responded. Howard put his hand on his chin for a second, confused, before a smug smirk came onto his face.

 

"Your new beau? Looks like they knew you two were involved. Gotta keep your love life private, Peg." Howard teased. She rolled her eyes in reply.

 

"You're not one to judge. Besides, I didn't ask for your detective work, I wanted to get your advice on a scientific matter." Peggy corrected him. With a look of intrigue, Howard raised his eyebrows.

 

"My two passions, science and-" Howard began, before Peggy interrupted him, tired of his quips. A good night's sleep ruined by mysterious assassins could do that to you.

 

"One of the malefactors was carrying an explosive device, the very same that destroyed your well-crafted floor." Peggy explained, motioning to the wreck.

 

"No ordinary grenade, I take it." Howard asked, his face alight with interest. Peggy nodded and stepped forward.

 

"Definitely not, but I recognized it. The bomb made a sound not unlike a generator, and glowing wires were wrapped around the outside. When the grenade hit the floor..." Peggy continued, before this time she was the one interrupted by Howard.

 

"There was a sonic blast?" the businessman correctly guessed. Peggy made a grunt that confirmed his suspicions, as Howard looked perplexed.

 

"These guys are lookin' for Mr. Peggy Carter and have sonic grenades? You're dealing with some powerful folks, Peg." Howard surmised. Peggy put a finger on her chin, searching her memory.

 

"You showed such extravagant weaponry to the military, did you not?" Peggy interrogated, realizing where she recognized the grenade from. Howard nodded, a nostalgic grin on his face not befitting the seriousness of the situation, as usual.

 

"Yeah, yeah, back in '45. They mass produce 'em down in New York City, part of my old contract. Nobody else has these gadgets, Peg, if you wanna catch those guys, that's the place." Howard advised. Peggy smiled as they heard a ring from one of the house's telephones.

 

"I'll get it, Howard, for once you've proven yourself useful." Peggy teased, a small smile on her lips. Howard formulated a comeback as she stepped into the house to hear Daniel's voice over the device.

 

"Peggy, Jack is dead. They just found his body."

* * *

Jack Thompson was a weasel, a womanizer, a career focused man who would do almost anything to get ahead in life. He had also pulled through when it really mattered, showed Peggy more respect than many other men she had known, and was a damn good agent. For all his flaws, Peggy knew he was a good man, and that made attending his funeral that much harder.

 

Daniel and her had already discussed the possible case in their path, that he was in danger, that she was terrified of losing him, however she phrased it, and most of all that they needed to return to New York City. She had grown fond of the sun soaked state, but this case was already personal. She had been thrusted into chaos once more, the life of an agent, she thought.

 

She allowed herself a break from these thoughts to focus on mourning her sometimes rival, sometimes friend. The New York office agents were all present, a few of Thompson's old war buddies and family in tow. It was a shame she had to come back to New York like this. The first time she arrived in the beautiful, sprawling city, she was terrified. Depressed. This time wasn't the same, though, she reminded herself as she squeezed Daniel's hand. She had friends. She had something more.

 

Rain poured down as the agent, a war hero to many, was buried. It was a fine casket (Howard ever so graciously helped Thompson's loved ones), a fine gravestone, a fine place for Thompson to be buried. Peggy knew little of the man beyond their work, but she was told that he would've wanted to die for the country, buried among colleagues and friends. Not everyone got to die as they wanted to, Peggy knew from the war, so she was glad he did.

 

Fresh off the funeral, where Peggy had composed herself and said only a few words to anyone, she left. She'd talk to Daniel later, of course, they'd figure things out. But first she needed to talk to someone. Someone she could cry to, she knew, someone who brightened her life when it was at its darkest. Maybe she could do the same now. Peggy sure as hell hoped so.

 

As she arrived at the grand Stark estate that had been her home before the previous case, Peggy knocked on the ornate wooden door to find an energetic as always Angie Martinelli, hair in curlers and a leisurely robe on. Blue eyes wide, she grinned at Peggy, a small gasp escaping her lips.

 

"English? Oh my god! 'Ya back! I didn't even get all dressed up, oh my god!" Angie beamed, the infectious happiness almost getting to her. God, she had missed Angie.

 

"My coworker just died." is all that escaped Peggy's mouth, her eyes watering up with tears. Angie put a hand over her mouth and hugged her best friend tightly, pulling her into the house.

 

"Sit down! I mean, it is your house and all..." Angie added, motioning for Peggy to sit down. The secret agent wiped her eyes, the slightest bit of mascara running down her face, and followed the waitress's orders. She knew that was always a wise thing to do.

 

"You need a cup of tea, English? There's pie in the fridge..." Angie quickly asked, eager to talk to her confidante. Though Peggy was only gone for a month, the two hadn't had much time to speak. And so much had happened to the both of them.

 

"That won't be necessary, Darling..." Peggy assured her, keeping her stiff upper lip even as she was distressed. Angie nodded, and with a sad smile, sat side by side with Peggy.

 

"You wanna talk, Peggy?" Angie quietly questioned, squeezing Peggy's hand. Peggy cleared her throat and breathed deeply, before nodding.

 

"He could be a real bugger, but...he wasn't all bad. He was a friend, sometimes. And I...in my line of work, if he's at risk, more people are. I just want them to...stop dying." Peggy vented, her emotions getting to her. She only felt comfortable being like THIS around a few people, and Angie was certainly one of them.

 

"Listen, English. No one's gonna stop gettin' hurt on their own. That's the cruddy world we live in. But if one gal could make a difference and help people, it's you. How would I have gotten a big role without you makin' me realize I could do it?" Angie told her. She always knew what to say, to get Peggy back in the fight, back to her old, arse kickin' self. There was so much she could've said to that.

 

"You got a big role?" is what Peggy decided on. Angie smiled wide and nodded excitedly, bouncing on their couch slightly.

 

"Yeah! Guess who's Juliet?" Angie bragged, and a small smile came onto Peggy's face. She was so glad her best friend had finally had her big break. A little bit of happiness in the storm of chaos going on was all she wanted. And she got it.

 

"Daniel and I will absolutely have to go see it then, Angie." Peggy said, before realizing Angie didn't know about their relationship. The actress raised an eyebrow and smirked.

 

"Looks like we have a lot of catchin' up to do, English." Angie teased, as Peggy got into the story that had filled up the last eventful month of her life.

 

And so they caught up.

* * *

There were many things Daniel thought he'd do when on vacation in New York City. Drinking wasn't one of them.

 

Of course, he also thought it'd be under happier circumstances. He could take Peggy to see his pop, talk to some old friends, enjoy the sights (because he didn't have much personal time while working there), and relax. But this was a trip to mourn. Furthermore, it was an extended leave to solve the high profile case in front of them: who killed Jack Thompson and why? And if Jack was dead, who was going to be the culprit's next victim?

 

He sure as hell hoped it wouldn't be him, or god forbid, Peggy. Daniel had a soft spot for Jack, even with his rudeness, his tendency to flip-flop. Though, even he could admit that Jack made a lot of enemies. In their line of work, if one man made enemies, that could affect the whole organization. Could this be one final insult on the part of their deceased friend?

 

He was hoping a beer would take the edge off, though his visit to The Firework was, of course, mostly business. He admired the small joint as he sat down alone and ordered his drink. The employees were Russian immigrants, people who got a lot of crap for little other than their nationality. He felt bad for them, though he never showed it. From experience, he knew that pity didn't help someone, it only made them feel lower.

 

No, it wasn't just to get a cold brew, though that was a bonus. It was to meet an old war buddy who had decided on the location, Woodrow McCord. In a war where so many were career men, trying to get a promotion, trying to get ahead, McCord kept to himself. He was gruff, cold, had a wit to him that could match Thompson's. But McCord was decidedly more simple and focused. He did what he was good at it, ugly as it was. And when the war was over, he opted to live a life away from the government.

 

Daniel was perfectly content with leaving him be, but desperate times called for desperate measures. McCord was a freelancer who did suspicious jobs on the side, having little patience for taking orders or working with military men. As a mercenary, he knew about  all sorts of illegal operations, run by creeps and jerks across the country. There wasn't much chance he could tell him much from the little evidence they had, but it was a start.

 

"Not here to turn me in, are 'ya Sousa?" McCord spoke up. Daniel rubbed his eyes and turned to see the man in front of him. He managed his best fake smile and the grizzled veteran scoffed. He had a talent for telling when people where insincere, something that Daniel suspected contributed to his grim outlook on life. McCord towered above Daniel and most other people he knew, but aside from that, the mercenary was indistinct, being able to blend in with the crowd via dull overcoat, dark hat, and a beard that covered most of his face, making him to appear as almost a shadow. A good ability for a soldier to have, something that without a doubt helped him in the service.

 

"Not today, Woody, all I need is advice." Daniel mused, as McCord pulled up a chair and seated himself. The bartender walked by, and a mere motion from the veteran clued him in that he wanted his regular. Daniel didn't often pass judgement on others, but he could guess McCord was a heavy drinker, a shame considering his unique skills. Taking a swig of beer, Daniel turned to his old friend.

 

"Do you known about any organizations looking to recruit?" Daniel began, and McCord opened his mouth to snarkily reply. But as he began to, the bartender silently left his drink on the counter. McCord shrugged and grabbed the beverage, gulping the alcohol down and giving Daniel the opportunity to finish.

 

"I don't mean small time gangs, either, something secret but...big." Daniel added, recalling that Peggy made note of her assailants' inexperience and nervousness. They might've had serious resources and some advanced gadgets, but they were no soldiers. McCord looked up as he swallowed his drink down, searching his mind for any relevant information.

 

"Hmm, some guys came after me, asked me if I wanted a job. Called 'emselves the Cabal. Didn't join once I heard their kraut accent, wasn't interested in being in some Nazi scheme." McCord murmured. A small smile formed on Daniel's face, as he remembered that McCord wasn't the most forward thinking person. Though, given the horrors of war they had been through together, he didn't blame the man.

 

"Why do you bring them up, Woody?" Daniel inquired. McCord slammed his glass on the wooden table, the bartender walking by to refill the regular patron's drink. The mercenary replied, having not drunk enough to slur his speech. McCord could definitely take his alcohol.

 

"Apparently they operate all the way out in Russia, some place called Balashala or somethin'. They were in the states for "business", and in my line of work that means taking someone out." McCord explained, going right back to his vodka once it arrived. Daniel grinned.

 

"You mean Balashikha?" Daniel corrected his friend, a man who placed value on actions over words. McCord was becoming very useful, more than he expected. Balashikha was a city nearby Moscow, the country's capital. This so-called cabal seemed to be a likely candidate, given the SSR's earlier confrontations with Leviathan. If they were out for revenge, Sousa would certainly be a candidate. And that meant Peggy would be too, something that shook the agent.

 

"Whatever, Sousa. The point is that I didn't take the job, but some jerk probably did. If you're dealing with these guys...watch your back." McCord warned. Daniel nodded, keeping his demeanor cool even if the knowledge frightened him. Taking a deep breath, he hopped off his bar stool and set cash down on the table, paying for their drinks. McCord raised a hand appreciatively as Daniel stepped back.

 

"You know, Woody, you could help people out. Talk to me if you ever wanna get out of the business you're in." Daniel suggested, looking back at the mercenary. He already knew what McCord's answer would be, but he thought it never hurt to give him a chance.

 

"Yeah, right. Get outta here, Danny." McCord answered, scratching his chin. Daniel smiled and walked towards the bar's doors as McCord thoughtfully put his hand on his cheek. Maybe Sousa was right.

 

Ehh, probably not.

* * *

Russia was a beautiful country, he thought.

 

Standing from the jet black fortress's balcony, he saw Moscow in the distance. The mahogany Spasskaya Tower, an empty spot where the cathedral once stood before Stalin, a balance of construction and the remnants of destruction. New buildings, higher than before, were being built in their predecessors' place. It was a shame that they had to destroy it once, but it was a wonderful thing that they were working to rebuild relations with their country. One day, all of the world's countries could be united.

 

"Mr. Vermis, sir!" a young voice called out in a Russian accent. The operative turned to look at the young man, who was clearly nervous and reluctant to be there. Leviathan had only cautiously invested in this program, lending the Cabal a few men and forcing them to hire the rest. This one, his new assistant, was fiercely loyal and talented for his age. His research would prove valuable, and while his cohorts might've appreciated brawn over anything else, he placed value on intelligence and ingenuity.

 

"While our assassins failed, I have word that they died...it seems like the Americans are not on our trail." the assistant assured him. Vermis seemed pleased by the news, having little sympathy for the fools they hired. As long as they still had the advantage, all would go according to plan. While he expected that would be all, it turned out that his subordinate had more to say.

 

"We have received word from the superiors, sir. They have identified two targets that are key to the Strategic Scientific Reserve's defense, a female agent and an American celebrity." he went on, handing Vermis a file written in German. He opened the file and scrolled through the information quickly, before stopping on two pictures, identified by the notes as Margaret Carter and Howard Stark. If they were out of the picture, the Cabal would have three men down. In an organization they knew was weakening, two men could decide a battle.

 

"Send the best men, soldier, I want them dead. Report back immediately." Vermis casually commented, his eyes returning to the sight. The young man, nodded, knowing not to disobey or even question his superior. He knew that if the men failed, he wouldn't bring back good news.

 

He didn't want that after what happened to the last assistant.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading Chapter 1! This is the aforementioned big project I was working on, I guess I ended up taking longer than I thought I would. This is my attempt at a sort of Season 3 for Agent Carter, written in novel format. This will be a loose adaptation of "Operation S.I.N.", one of the unfortunately few Marvel stories about our favorite secret agent. 
> 
> I hope you stick around, because we haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet!


End file.
